Harry Potter and the Flame of Loki
by Panser Dragoon
Summary: When Harry Potter stumbles upon a baby kestrel on the way to school, he thought he had found a friend, a companion to help him survive the Dursleys. However even a mere kestrel can send destiny spiralling out of control. Especially one as loyal as Loki.
1. Ch 1: Loki

A Kestrel for a Knave

Vernon Dursley was many things. Large... Certainly. Wealthy... Moderately. Kindness, However, was one attribute that very few people would think to associate with him. This story finds him enjoying a typical Friday morning. He has gotten up to the shrill commands of his wife, Petunia, indulged his seven year old son, Dudley, with a crisp ten pound note for sweets and eaten a hearty English breakfast that would have put most generous cafes and restaurants to shame. Overall it was looking to be a good day.

Very few people would think to notice the unassuming young boy darting to and fro in the background of this scene. He had a scruffy mop of black hair that stubbornly stuck up in every direction and brilliant green eyes that shone with intelligence. Despite these characteristic traits, however, the most notable aspect of his appearance was he was _unnoticeable_. He seemed to shrink into the most uninteresting of corners and shied as far away from the residents of number four Privet Drive as he could. The reason for this was that the boy was _not_ in fact a Dursley. He was the nephew of Vernon's wife and he, although he didn't know it at the time, was a wizard.

Both Vernon and Petunia knew this fact, though for their own reasons they chose to keep it secret. They told the boy that his parents were alcoholics who had died in a car crash before he had been left with them. Fearing the talents that their nephew may manifest, they had chosen to keep him as browbeaten as they could, leaving him to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs, in an attempt to stifle the magic from him and turn him into a normal member of society. Obviously this would amount to be futile, though interestingly, neither had thought how they would treat the boy if they were successful. But then the Dursley's were irrationally fearful of all things magic and, in their defence, they weren't the brightest of couple's.

Either way Vernon was whistling as he strode from the kitchen towards the front door. The sun was shining and he had a very good feeling about how the day was going to go. He dropped heavily into his car and began his daily routine of skimming through radio channels to find a station that wasn't wailing with what he dubbed 'Those damn punk kid bands'. The high volume caused him to not hear his nephew tapping urgently on the passenger side window. His nephew, clearly worried that his uncle would pull out before he managed to get his attention tapped harder. Vernon looked up just in time to see the window of his brand new car vanish into thin air.

Just to get things straight, this hadn't been the first time strange occurrences happened around the boy, there had been many incidents from miraculously regenerating hair to complaints from the school about him climbing impossibly tall buildings. In fact these things had happened enough that Vernon had developed a standard protocol for how to deal with such situations. He implemented that protocol now with a remarkably impressive response time. He gave a scream of inarticulate rage and launched himself out of the car. He had rounded the bonnet in seconds and seized the terrified boy roughly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll.

'What freakishness have you caused now boy!'

Several small drops of spittle sprayed from his mouth as he continued his rant.

'What do you think you were doing! I swear it'll be the cupboard for a month for this! Y'hear!'

His nephew, somehow managing to look terrified, ashamed and contrite simultaneously, managed to shakingly hold out a brown paper bag towards his uncle.

'A-Aunt Petunia se-sent me to give y-you your lunch u-uncle'

Vernon snorted in annoyance and snatched the bag while tossing the boy to the side. He gave the missing window a look of deep disgust.

'You'll still be paying for this, boy! After all your aunt and I do for you I am not going to stand for you vandalising our property. I expect to not see a peep from you get back, you understand?'

The small child was gingerly picking himself up from the rocky driveway, wincing and holding his left arm close to his body at an awkward twisted angle. Keeping his eyes fixed on the floor he nodded vigorously.

'Damn right you understand!'

Vernon gave a self satisfied nod to drive his point home and got back into his car. He quickly checked the time, 8:17... He was still early. Grinning as he felt the day's potential flooding through him once more, he drove out into the street, roared an expletive at a swerving cyclist and headed off to work.

A young boy struggled awkwardly to get his schoolbag over the shoulder of his injured arm and headed towards another day at school without another word. Just another day in the life of Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry walked quickly towards his school, following the back alleys and footpaths that would cut down the journey. He was well used to making this trip and was fiercely independent for a seven year old. The incident with his uncle that morning wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence. His arm was hurt, he had twisted it awkwardly on the gravel drive, but he wasn't too concerned. He often picked up scrapes and bruises at home and while today was considerably worse than the usual treatment, he was tough for his size and his injuries always seemed to heal unnaturally quickly. Funny things like that happened around him all the time and, while he wished they would stop so he might get along better with his family, he knew he had a much better life than some others. He knew two other kids in his school that frequently turned up with shattered bones. His uncle may be rough, but Harry recognised the look in his eyes was fear, not pleasure. He may be young but he could read the subtle difference in his family's eyes as easily as he could tell night and day.

So Harry quite cheerfully, well as cheerfully as anyone can be with a twisted arm, continued his walk to school and watched the birds in the sky above to take his mind off the dull pain. He wouldn't have been surprised to learn that the day had inspired the exact same irrepressible cheerfulness in him that it had in Vernon. With his arm he even had a reasonable excuse to be late to school so he did not have to worry about being late, though he'd rather be on time if he could. The headmaster was a very harried man and his public primary school had a lot of abuse cases. He tried his best to help the children, but with the incompetence of the local council, his best amounted to being kind to suspected victims and turning a blind eye on any rule breaking they did that might make their lives easier. Harry couldn't help but like the teacher, an alien concept to even as diligent a student as Harry. Clearly a man who refused to punish a limping student for being late was a man who had a decent set of morals and Harry refused to abuse a man he respected, even if he was a teacher and therefore was automatically intimidating and an authority to be rebelled against.

It was as Harry was hurrying towards his school when he felt _it_. A shudder ran through him as he felt a keening wail of the most haunting misery he had ever known. He spun his head from side to side trying to find the source of the noise but it seemed to be deeper, almost like it was a ripple of pure agony rolling through his mind. Harry closed his eyes and covered his ears concentrating, but the resonance continued to work through his brain, digging right into the sensitive area behind the eyes. The bit that always seems to hurt when he had a particularly bad headache. He let out a piteous whimper and wished as hard as he could for the pain to go away and suddenly felt vast, blissful relief. The feeling was not gone, he could still feel it under his temples, but it was almost... muted. He sighed before realising he knew where the noise was coming from. He also realised that the pain hadn't been his. It was foreign, almost alien to him.

Here Harry faced a choice. He was terrified of the pain that had raked through his mind as well as the concept that someone else could put it there. The idea that he could fall prey to some nasty mind control _thing_ like in his cousin's TV shows was horrifying, but at the same time some primal instinct in him knew that whatever had touched his mind was in terrible agony and his teachers had always stressed how important it was to help others in need, even if you don't want to. His fear briefly struggled with him, begging him to carry on to school, fetch help, _anything_, but Harry's courage and curiosity immediately quelled that notion. He turned off the footpath he was on and headed across a field towards a copse of trees that he knew held the source of the haunting wail.

And as Harry made his choice, with barely a moments thought, the universe shifted and destiny began to reshape itself into a new pattern.

* * *

Harry cautiously stepped through the shaded trees, homing in on the bizarre resonance in his head. He moved quietly, his childlike fear immediately conjuring images of his Cousin Dudley lying in wait with his gang. As he moved forward however he heard a wretched _squawking _noise that was definitely not human. The boy scrounged up his courage and stepped around a bush to meet the most heartbreaking sight of his whole life. A small ragged bird lay in a pool of blood, its mottled brown and black plumage was torn and scattered, the body barely intact. It had clearly been savaged by a dog or other animal and the pathetic body seemed to be bathed in a shaft of sunlight that highlighted every aspect of it, from the matted feathers to the unseeing fierce eyes.

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he looked at the dead animal before him. His own life had by no means been a piece of cake but this first encounter with the tragic finality of death hit the boy hard. Everyone who has lost someone knows how deep a chord is struck when they are old enough to comprehend what has happened. Most children Harry's age would not have understood but a combination of Harry's unusual maturity and the deep anguished ache he had felt in his head seemed to slot the sight before him together perfectly. To the young boy stood in the clearing that day, a piece of his world and innocence seemed to drop away, leaving him feeling empty and realising for the first real time how lonely the world was.

Harry shivered, the bird in front of him, no he recognised it from a lesson he had last year, it was a _kestrel,_ his kestrel, had managed to achieve what his families poor treatment had failed to do all these years. Harry felt broken.

Another squawk shook him from his reverie. In front of him two fierce yellow eyes were fixing him with a penetrating glare. He moved forward, almost trancelike, and realised he was looking at a scrawny baby kestrel in a rather ragged nest. Obviously the dead animal on the floor below was the mother or father. It looked like the little one was on its own now. The bird cocked its head at him and squawked again angrily, trying to drive him away, despite the fact that it was barely big enough to fit in even Harry's tiny hands. Suddenly Harry realised where the misery and sorrow he had felt before had come from and he sniffed, tears welling in his eyes.

'It's okay little guy, I'm not going to hurt you'

The kestrel squawked again at him, though Harry felt a slight trickle of doubt running through his mind. Intuitively, he realised that he was sensing the animal's response and knew it could understand him on some level.

'Really, I just want to be friends with you. I'm so sorry about your mum.'

It was the mother, he knew. He couldn't say how, he barely recognised the species of the bird, never mind the gender. He felt a small twinge of doubt accompanied with a considerably greater level of curiosity flow into his mind.

'Don't worry, I'd never hurt you. My mum died as well, see. I know how sad you must be.'

The kestrel cocked its head to the other side and squawked again, though the noise was considerably less harsh than before and Harry could sense a strange emotion at the back of his mind. Not quite trust or friendliness... He couldn't quite put his finger on it but it was almost like a companionable, grudging acknowledgement.

'Do you have a name?'

The kestrel fixed him with a solid stare and confusion thrummed into Harry's head. The young boy could feel his mind becoming more attuned with the small creature, the connection was growing clearer and while he was beginning to feel tired and lightheaded, he felt a queer euphoria as he realised the birds sorrow was ebbing away as Harry occupied more and more of its attention.

'You don't know what a name is do you? That's why you haven't got one...'

A pulse of confirmation came from the bird and Harry felt a strange pang of sadness at the thought. He had been feared and hated by his family and even he got a name. How terrible it must be to not even have that.

A weird rush of what could only be reassurance came from the animal. Harry grinned ruefully at it as he realised it was trying to cheer him up. Well, as best as a bird could do that.

'I'm supposed to cheer you up, not the other way round, silly. Still I guess if you haven't got a name I'll just have to give you one...'

Harry trailed off looking at the baby kestrel, the poor thing was incredibly thin and he felt a sudden wave of panic. He could sense that it had no one else left, if he left it here the animal wouldn't last the week. Suddenly he felt a wave of self assurance flow through him. No. This was the first friend he had made in a long time. It didn't matter if it was just a bird he wasn't going to leave a small animal to die.

'Would you like to come home with me? I'll look after you as best I can you know'

The bird looked at him and Harry immediately knew it hadn't understood what he meant. He bit his lip in confusion, how could he explain the concept of going home with him to a bird that lived in a bush? He screwed up his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could on how to explain to the creature that he wanted it to come home with him and to his shock a wave of tingly energy seemed to spread through his body. He immediately felt the kestrel's response, it knew what he meant!

Harry was so elated with what had happened he didn't notice that he had not spoken a word. Nor that his arm was no longer hurting. He certainly didn't notice the fading shimmer of magical energy that was fading from both him and the little kestrel.

The bird in question was conflicted. It lived in its nest with its mother, it knew nothing else, yet at the same time it wanted to go with the boy to the dark cupboard place it had seen in his mind. It felt right. After a couple of minutes with Harry waiting with baited breath he got his answer. Grinning delightedly he held out his hands to the small bird which promptly hopped into his palms.

'We're going to be good friends Loki'

Harry's kestrel chirped cheerfully and they both sensed the magic lightly close over them and Loki became the only one of his kind in the entire country to have his own name.

Harry carefully deposited the bird into his bag and immediately set off towards the library to find a book that would tell him how to look after his new friend. He never did make it to school but, predictably, his headteacher let it slide, Harry had a history of turning up bruised and none of the teachers believed that he would skive of school for no reason. Vernon never found out, though he did carry out with his punishment of locking Harry in his cupboard for a few nights.

Harry didn't mind, he had a friend to share his cupboard with now.

* * *

Story Disclaimer: I obviously own nothing in this story. Otherwise it wouldn't be on FanFiction(dot)net. I'm only going to disclaim once so assume this counts for the other chapters too.

Authors Notes: What do you think? Good start? Bad? I have the next several chapters planned out but I would like to know where people would want this to go. I have several different possible endings but there's a big chunk of Hogwarts time that have very mutable possibilities and I'm open to suggestions.

I'm also looking for a serious beta. I'm going to put up the first few chapters in their raw formats, though I will likely repost them if someone with actual talent can redraft the erroneous sections for me.

Panser Dragoon


	2. Ch 2: Three Years Later

Golden Eye's see further

Harry Potter was an unusual boy. Even people who knew virtually nothing about him could attest to that. Everything from his scruffy hair to his battered wire framed glasses simply screamed of weirdness. Harry himself loved the effect; he had never once wished he looked different, though a small part of him grudgingly accepted that his weird-phobic family might be able to accept him better if he did. This morning found him sneaking quietly into his cupboard clutching a small handful of bacon. He had almost managed to finish the usual breakfast he made for his uncle and had seized the opportunity to sneak out for a moment while the kitchen was empty.

The rusty hinges of his cupboard shrieked slightly as he closed the door behind him and he felt a familiar questioning probe in the back of his mind. Smiling slightly at his friends' usual caution, he turned on his tiny bedside lamp and dropped onto the bed.

'It's okay Loki, it's just me. I've got you some breakfast.'

Immediately the lid of a small grubby cardboard box sprung open and a little brown head shot out, chirping in eager delight. Laughing softly, Harry held out the bacon to his little friend who immediately devoured it all. The hooked flashing beak never came close to hitting Harry's hand and instead expertly scooped up all the food in several sharp jabs. Rolling back with a satisfied chirp, Loki dropped back into his box to go back to sleep while sending a mocking ping of gratitude back to Harry. The boy just sniggered slightly and shook his head at the lazy bird's antics.

'You lazy beggar... You do know you're going flying later, you're not sleeping all day again.'

A brown wing lazily waved at him from the open box and he felt the laughing dismissal flowing across the bond. Harry would have felt put out but he could sense Loki's amusement clear as day. The kestrel struggled to understand a lot of the more... _human_ concepts that Harry tried to teach it, but jokes and ridicule seemed to come naturally to it. Harry just assumed wild kestrels must joke with each other all the time, it was an odd thought but no one could deny Loki had a definite playful streak of humour running through him.

Shaking his head slightly, Harry looked around his room. It had always been dark and slightly oppressive, but over the last couple of years he had managed to bring more and more pictures he had drew back from school. There were images of birds of prey plastered all over his walls, from falcons to eagles, even several owls. If you looked carefully though, a recurring theme underplayed the others, a boy with a small bird flying around him. Harry had been very careful to not overdo it, if his uncle Vernon saw too many of that particular type of picture he might get suspicious and search the cupboard. The boy dreaded what might happen if Vernon ever found out about his friend. Still, he had kept the secret for three years now and his family still didn't suspect a thing.

Smiling at some of his favourite drawings, Harry got to his feet, closed the lid on Loki's hiding box and headed back to the kitchen to finish making his families breakfast.

* * *

The breakfast was going quite well Harry thought. He should have known it would go pear shaped. His family was eating with gusto, he had been given a larger portion than usual, still not as big as Dudley's but still enough to fill him for the day. Uncle Vernon had even complimented him on the well cooked bacon and favoured him with an incredibly rare smile. Yes, Harry thought, it was definitely looking to be a good day.

Ever since he had saved Loki things had been better. He had a friend and confidant who he knew would never betray him, but surprisingly, the weird events that happened around him had reached an all time low. They still happened, but they seemed to manifest more when he was alone outside flying his kestrel and Vernon and Petunia had noticed the significant decrease. Taking heart in the belief that they might be finally knocking the magic out of their nephew, they had begun to treat him less badly, one could even say _well_ on some days. The pride moment of Harry's newfound place in the family was when Vernon had asked him if he would like an ice cream too when they had visited the zoo for Dudley's birthday. Dudley had been shocked beyond any reasoning and Harry treasured the memory with great amusement.

However, his aunt and uncle were still terrified of abnormality. If they ever found strange things happening near him they would punish him immediately. Harry didn't understand why, he didn't know how afraid they were that he'd 'slide back into that freakish nonsense' but the punishments rarely bothered him. It'd give him a cast iron excuse to sit and talk to Loki for hours on end.

Today however, all of that good progress would come to an end. They heard the clack of the letterbox as the morning mail was delivered, Vernon looked up from a moment and asked Dudley to fetch the mail. Dudley was infuriated.

'I'm eating here! Make Harry get it!'

Vernon scowled at his son gruffly.

'Mind your manners Dud, you keep talking to your father like that and you'll be getting the mail very day this month. Would you get the mail boy?'

Harry nodded and got up. Honestly he was already full and it never hurt to do what Vernon asked, especially when he was so nearly_ polite_ about asking.

'Cheers boy.'

Scratch that, Harry grinned on his way through the hall, he _was_ polite. This was going to be a very good day. Oh how wrong he would be.

He bent down to pick up the three letters and a postcard that had been posted. He skimmed the addresses as he walked back to the kitchen and almost had a heart attack when he read the last one, _it was addressed to him!_

The letter was heavy and written in green ink on dark canvas parchment. Mr Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whingeing. Definitely him, it even had his cupboard written down. Elation began to flood through him as he wordlessly handed Vernon the other letters and sat in a stupor, beginning to open the heavy seal.

Dudley, however, had caught sight of what he was doing. Already furious at being chastised by his dad, his beady eyes narrowed as he saw Harry opening the letter.

'Daaaaaaaaaad! Harry's nicked one of your letters!'

Vernon's head swivelled round to fix on Harry and the young boy felt a plummeting feeling in his stomach. Things were about to go to hell it seemed.

'Dudley stop your whining right now! Your supposed to be a Dursley not some common lout.'

Vernon almost moved his attention back to his own post when he caught sight of the wax seal Harry had almost prised off the parchment. Quick as lightning he snatched the letter from Harry's hand and ripped it open. His eyes read the first line and he went as white as a sheet.

'PETUNIA!'

He roared.

'Its them! That blasted letter is here!'

Petunia rushed into the kitchen and seized the letter, her horsey face going a shocking assortment of colours and she sat down shaking. Vernon turned his attention back to Harry and for the first time in a long time, Harry saw real rage in his uncle's eyes.

'GET IN YOUR CUPBOARD BOY! HOW DARE YOU LET ME AND YOUR AUNT DOWN LIKE THIS! JUST AS WE START THINKING YOU MIGHT NOT BE A COMPLETE WASTE OF SPACE YOU PULL A STUNT LIKE THIS! WELL I WONT STAND FOR IT!'

Spittle was flying across Petunia's immaculate kitchen and a vein was throbbing in Vernon's rapidly reddening face. The splotchy effect wasn't flattering.

'I MEAN IT! CUPBOARD, NOW!'

Harry sensed the danger he was in a quickly backed away and ran for his cupboard. The door slammed heavily on the other side and he heard the lock slide shut. He was shaking quite badly, he had almost forgotten how angry his uncle could get. A small feathered head popped up from the box and cooed at him softly. Harry immediately felt waves of calming reassurances flowing through his head as Loki tried to calm him. He lifted his small kestrel from the box and hugged it to himself as he curled up on his bed. It took a while but eventually his heart rate slowed and Loki's calming effect sank in. He could still hear his uncle's raging expletives from some other room of the house and, while he knew it was impossible now, Harry really wished he knew what that letter said. A fierce little resonance in his mind told him Loki agreed with him fully.

* * *

Harry realised that his punishment was being extended because of his families shock. He recognised that it was horrendously unfair but at the same time he knew that his family was only taking it so badly because it had been months since they last had to punish him and they weren't used to it. Even still, that letter must have been pretty special, this was his third day in the cupboard, including the infamous letter day. Of course it could be that the letters kept arriving that really did the trick. Each morning he had heard uncle Vernon screeching in rage about 'Bloody letters again!' this and 'Blasted freaks!' that. Harry even thought he heard him scream 'OWLS!' this morning, though it could just be his uncle's mind snapping. Petunia had given him terrified looks as she wordlessly brought him food each day, much to Loki's amusement. Harry hadn't understood at first but came to realise that the kestrel found it hilarious that when they liked their nephew, they made him cook their food, but when they were afraid and disappointed they brought meals to him. Harry agreed chuckling quietly but threw his pillow at the cheeky bird when Loki suggested Harry always fed him because he was afraid of the kestrel.

On the fourth day they heard Vernon screaming about owls again. They were sure, there was definitely owls involved with the letter or letters now. This was where Loki came up with a plan. Harry didn't want to do it, he would be gutted if the little bird got hurt, but his fierce friend assured him that he could look after himself. The next time Petunia came to deliver food Harry begged her to let him go to the toilet. Sighing in obvious reluctance, she followed him upstairs and waited outside the bathroom door. She never wondered why Harry was wearing the biggest, worst fitting shirt he owned.

Loki soared upwards on a rising thermal, delighting in being able to fly again. A small part of him felt wrong, he had always had Harry running below him whenever he had flown before and it didn't feel quite right to fly without the boy. He could also feel a small twinge of loneliness from the house below, though this only served to focus the little raptor rather than distract him. It was a perk of being a bird of prey, Loki was made to fly and hunt and he possessed an instinctual focus that was immune to _human_ distractions. That wasn't to say he didn't care about Harry's predicament, the knowledge that the boy was suffering without him was a heavy weight in the birds heart, but Loki had a job to do and it would take a hurricane to distract him from doing it perfectly.

His laser-precise vision soon picked out his target, there coming over the horizon where the sun was still rising was a flock of soaring owls. Loki repressed his impulse to run and focussed on the heavy letters they were carrying. He couldn't read them, but he recognised the wax seals that Harry had described, he understood that no other letters would carry such an emblem.

Understanding his task, Loki began to climb, soaring high above the owl's flight path before setting into an easy hunting hover. If anyone had looked up they would have seen an ordinary kestrel looking for field mice. Loki had bigger targets today. He felt a bizarre tendril worming at his mind, trying to make him forget or overlook the owls, but the kestrel was used to mind magic. He didn't understand what it was, but he recognised a similar feeling to the bond he shared with Harry. Furiously, the bird shook it off and drew on his friends' power through the bond to penetrate the effect and hold his focus on the rapidly approaching owls.

The birds were headed for privet drive. Certain that he had the correct target, Loki let out a fierce war screech, folded his wings and went into a steep dive. Some of the owls looked up and saw the plummeting raptor, but not all of them. That was all the advantage the smaller bird needed as he crashed into his mark, talons outstretched.

* * *

Authors Notes: One more chapter for you all. I'm overwhelmed with the level of people who have earmarked this story, I honestly didn't think it would be very popular but with the response I've gotten over just one night, how could I not wack of this chapter for you all. Its shorter than I wanted it to be, but my muse for the morning is running out and I need to go apply for jobs. I'll get a start on chapter three tonight and hopefully have it up in 24 hours for you all. I already have the drafted ideas for the next 4-5 chapters so it shouldn't take long. If it does... Blame Loki. Pernicious mail stealing bird...


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